


Give Me the Keys (And I'll Drive You Crazy)

by totilott



Series: A Groovy Kind of Love [12]
Category: DCU (Comics), Justice League International (Comics)
Genre: 1980s, Also addressing Booster's real name and why it hasn't come up before, Angst and then it gets silly and then there's more angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Secret Relationship, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 07:02:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19883575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totilott/pseuds/totilott
Summary: Ted rushes to the hospital when he hears Booster's been hurt, and that's just the start of that day's emotional roller coaster.





	Give Me the Keys (And I'll Drive You Crazy)

Getting through security seems like more of a nightmare than usual. Prove who you are (the Blue Beetle, no, not that one, the second one), prove your affiliation where applicable (the Justice League, no, not that one, the new one), prove you’re of sound mind, not hypnotized, not possessed, not going loopy (no, nope, _nein_ , though the last one is becoming more likely every minute they have to do this). Ted taps his foot, feeling the urge to smack his own driver’s license on the security man’s counter, foregoing all secrecy, just to get through, to find out what’s happened to Booster. But that would just bring up a whole different set of problems and definitely delay him even more.

Once cleared, he rushes through the gate, not waiting for Fire, and finds the receptionist’s desk. “We’re here for Booster Gold,” he tells her, a little out of breath. “What room’s he in?”

She smiles at him. “One moment,” she says, brightly, and types something on her computer, the keys clacking loudly in the empty hall. She pauses, reading the monochrome screen as Bea joins Ted’s side. “Ah yes,” she continues. “If you’ll just take a seat, Dr. Marlowe will be with you soon.”

“But he’s alright?” Ted asks, his mouth dry.

“The doctor will get to you as soon as he can.”

Ted stands there, trying to read the receptionist’s face. She must know, she probably has access to everything on that computer. She must have read what state Booster is in. If he’s lucid, if he’s unconscious, if he’s in critical condition.

If he’s dead.

“Come on, Beetle.” Bea’s voice is soft. “It doesn’t mean anything. We just need to wait.”

He stands there, looking at the idly smiling face of the receptionist until he feels a gentle tug on his arm and allows Bea to lead him to the closest cluster of chairs in the empty lobby. They find a seat, Ted locking his fingers together, looking at the white walls of the Hero Wing of the New York Downtown Hospital.

“Tell me again,” he mutters at Bea, not moving his eyes from the pale walls. "All of it."

“About what happened?”

“Yeah. Please.”

“Sure." She takes a breath. She’s humoring him, they both know it, but Ted wants to glean every piece of information from her that he can. Because he wasn’t... He wasn’t _there_. He wasn’t where he needed to be. “We were -- me, Booster and Guy, we were downtown to stop a gang altercation, just kids, tempers running high. It didn’t take much to calm them down. They wanted a truce." She waves her hand. "You know. Just needed some help to get there. We were wrapping up when he -- when Solomon Grundy showed up.”

“Was Grundy involved, earlier?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think it was just dumb luck. He wandered in, didn’t like the look of us, things got bad real fast. We were just trying to get the last kids away from there. And Guy jumped into the fray without a plan.”

“As usual.”

“As usual. Got knocked about a bit, nothing major. Booster was trying to fly behind Grundy to get some heat off Guy, off the last couple of kids when he -- when Grundy just grabbed him by the leg and smashed him against the side of the building. I don't know why his force field didn't kick in, but it..." She pauses. "It didn't look good."

Ted winces, his mind putting in too many details on its own. “Did he seem -- how bad was he hurt?”

“I don’t know, Beetle,” Bea sighs, turning to look at him. “There was -- Glass broke and a window pane splintered at the impact. He screamed, I know that. I was a little preoccupied with the fight but I -- I could see he was trying to get back on his feet and he couldn’t.” She touches a hand to Ted’s shoulder. “Maybe this should wait till later.”

“No, I want to hear it,” Ted sighs, slipping his fingers under his goggles to rub his eyes. “Then what happened?”

“We were one down and you guys were in Hong Kong so--”

Ted flinches, a sting of guilt in him. They should never have left for that liaison meeting, Max looking into branching out into Asia. They should never have let a skeleton crew stay behind at the Embassy. He was nodding off in an conference room while Booster was getting hurt.

“So I made Guy call for the Green Lantern Corps. He needed some convincing but that Kyle person and some crazy looking guys in green were there in fifteen minutes, tops. Didn’t take them long to get Grundy under control either, they --”

“Was there blood?” Ted interrupts, squeezing his hands together.

“Whose?”

“On Booster. Was he bleeding?”

“I mean, I --” Bea clears her throat. “Some. I didn’t really see, by the time it was over some civilian had already called for an ambulance and they were carting him off.” She exhales. “Look, he’s tough, he can take a bit of getting knocked around.”

“So why won’t they just let us see him?”

She looks away, silent.

It’s a cliché that the worst thing is not knowing, but he can't think of many things that seem worse right now. Just the odds -- either Booster is fine, or he’s _not_ fine, and there’s almost an infinite amount of ways he can be not fine. The fact that the hospital hasn’t discharged him, almost nine hours after he was brought in, that sure seems to imply something about those odds.

 _Hours_ passed before he heard. It was all he could do to run to the transporter room and leave the others to the meeting. Max had wanted him to stay, to be their technical expert, give an overview of the technology they use, but he didn’t press the matter when Ted reiterated that no, he _needed_ to see Booster. With hospital security it wasn’t like he could get an update over the phone.

He’s been there himself -- if they take you in in costume, you either walk out on your own or other capes must jump through the hoops to see you. Well, here he is, jumping through hoops. And still he doesn't know any more.

He sighs, leaning his head against his hands.

This is all for Booster’s sake, he reminds himself. It’s purely a security matter, that’s why he’s left in the dark. He could be _fine_. (He’s not fine, or they’d have discharged him). He has to be fine.

“Who are you here for?”

Ted startles and looks up at a tall middle-aged woman in a white coat. She doesn’t smile, doesn’t frown, just regards them with a neutral expression. A professional expression.

“Booster. Um, Booster Gold,” Ted replies, his voice hoarse.

“That’s what I thought,” she flashes them a smile that doesn’t really reach her eyes. “I’m Dr. Breck. If you’ll come with me we can talk in my office.”

Ted glances at Bea as they get to their feet. Whatever it is, they have to discuss it first. Behind closed doors, maybe so their reaction won’t make other visitors uncomfortable. So they can grieve in private? God, he wants to grab this woman by her coat lapels and shout at her to tell them already, tell them if he's okay.

Bea nods at him, a tense smile on her face. She’s thinking the same thing.

Dr. Breck’s office is surprisingly cramped in the spacious hospital wing. On the cork board above her desk are children’s drawings. They all take a seat, and the doctor produces a clipboard and pen.

“I need to ask." The doctor clicks her pen. "You aren’t aware of any aliens in Booster Gold’s lineage? Or magic influence, unnatural biological developments, anything of that sort?”

“I.... No,” Ted mutters, his mouth dry. “I don’t think so.” He rubs his temple through the mask, feeling out of his depth. “I mean, he’s... From the future.”

“Yes, that’ll be the --” she flips through the papers on the clipboard. “The 25th century. Do you know what year exactly? The decade?”

Ted stares at her. _Does_ he know? Has Booster ever told him exactly when -- Will it help? Is this life saving information, would it help Booster if Ted knew, if he could tell them?

He doesn’t know. He’s no help at all, he doesn’t _know._

“I -- I don’t --”

“You have to understand our records on file for Mr. Gold are very limited.” She taps her pen on the clipboard to emphasize her point. “We thought maybe if we knew exactly _why_ he had his adverse reaction --”

“Adverse reaction?” Ted makes a sound almost like a sob, just sucking in air to steady himself. What the hell has happened to Booster?

“Doctor, please,” Bea speaks pointedly, anger brimming right under the surface, the anger she uses when she feels out of her depth. “Right now we haven’t even heard if Booster is alive or dead.”

The doctor's eyes widen. “Oh. Oh _goodness._ ” She looks from Bea to Ted and back to Bea. “So you haven’t -- I thought you’d already met with Dr. Marlowe.”

“We haven’t,” Bea hisses. “So _please_ can you tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Obviously there’s been some miscommunication, I thought you already --” She glances at the closed door behind them, a spark of frustration in her eyes. Then she looks at Ted, hunched over on his seat, elbows resting on his knees. “I’m really sorry, you must be so worried.”

“Just,” Bea glances at Ted and then continues staring at Dr. Breck. “Tell us what’s going on with Booster.”

“Of course,” she says. “Mr. Booster -- Mr. Gold, I mean, was brought in with a dislocated elbow and heavy contusions to his hip, as well as some minor cuts. The dislocation was severe enough that we had to sedate him to set it, and the procedure took a while longer than we’d anticipated. Two hours of work, in fact.”

 _“Two hours_ to pop it back in?” Bea groans in sympathy. “Poor Booster.”

“We've done extensive testing to make sure there's no lasting damage to his artery or nerves.” The doctor nods. “It will of course require plenty of rest and possibly some physical therapy, but we’re optimistic that there’s very little chance of permanent damage to his arm.”

“But the adverse reaction you were talking about,” Ted finally manages to choke out. Even with the promise of words like "rest" and "phsycial therapy" (a word that still makes Ted shudder), that worried knot in his stomach won't let go.

“Oh, by that I mean...” She pauses, obviously looking for layman’s terms. “Following the procedure we administered a low dose of buprenorphine, a pain killer, to Mr. Gold. It’s protocol in treatment of this type of injury, but Mr. Gold, he... Well, he...”

“Had an adverse reaction,” Ted mutters, feeling dizzy.

“Yes.”

“So is he gravely ill or in a coma or what?” Bea snaps.

“Oh no, nothing as dramatic as that,” the doctor assures them. “He had some bouts of nausea that seems to have passed, but his reaction is more... euphoric that anything.”

There's a pause. then a small titter escapes Bea. “You’re telling us he’s high off his ass?”

“You can definitely describe it as a high, yes,” the doctor smiles. “Of course, it’s not unheard of with this type of drug, but considering the _very_ modest dose we gave him a number of hours ago, it seems Mr. Gold is somehow extremely sensitive to it.”

Ted sighs. It's not as bad as he feared, at least. But... Booster not himself, unfiltered. What might he tell people? Has he already said things he'd promised he'd never ever let anyone know? About _them_ , about nights sneaking into each other's rooms?

He scolds himself, that that's his immediate worry. Booster's a Justice League member, there's all sorts of top secret information he could spill under the influence. Things objectively worse than a little experimenting with his buddy.

But still.

“So he’s alright?” Bea flops against the back of her chair. “He’s bruised and high as a kite, but he’s alright?”

“We’ve monitored him very closely and haven’t seen any more unexpected reactions. but like anyone in an altered state, his behavior might be irrational. Now, I understand Mr. Gold’s 'powers' so to speak are technological? They’re tools that he uses?”

“That’s right,” Ted replies, and wonders for a moment if he’s already said to much. There’s the conflict of wanting to keep Booster’s secrets but also helping the hospital treat him. He knows they keep top secret files on medical information on all of them, information that could be devastating if it fell into the wrong hands. But still he wants to help.

“I would not return them to him until he’s completely lucid again,” she tells them, voice low. “And you have to understand that if Mr. Gold was a true metahuman it would be irresponsible to let him be in this state.”

“New York?” Ted quips before he’s had a chance to think. “I’m sorry,” he mutters quickly. _There’s a time and a place, Ted._

“We could reverse the drug,” the doctor continues, ignoring Ted’s joke. “But of course that would also remove the pain killing effect. There are alternatives, but we believe they would be less than optimal, and possibly with more serious side effects.”

“So how long is he gonna be like that?” Ted asks, trying to bounce back from his terrible habit of joking when he's uncomfortable.

“It’s hard to foresee, obviously,” the doctor replies. “If Mr. Gold’s metabolism is like ours, 16 hours would be a rough estimate.”

“A 16 hour high,” Bea muses. “I know where I’m going the next time I need something to take the edge off.”

“Fire,” Ted hisses.

“What?”

“You think that’s appropriate at a time like this?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. State-of-New-York.”

The doctor coughs, and they both turn to look at her. “So do you have any more questions?”

“Yes,” Ted replies. “When can we see him?”

* * *

Even as they approach the closed door Ted can hear Booster’s voice within, and his heart jumps in his chest. He’s alright. He’s safe, he’s taken care of. Ted knocks gingerly on the door but Booster’s voice, muffled and indistinct, doesn’t pause. He pushes the door open.

“-- A _whole_ thing. A whole taste and you don’t even know. I mean, only eccentrics use mustard in my time, people will give you _looks_ if you ask for mustard, like --”

Booster’s in bed, unmasked and wearing the gray T-shirt and sweatpants the hospital's lent him, propped up in a seated position with a number of pillows behind him. He’s got his right arm splinted and in a sling, and butterfly stitches on his forehead, but he looks very much alive. Ted could hug him if he wasn't afraid of hurting him.

A man in scrubs -- a nurse, perhaps -- is taking his blood pressure while Booster’s head is flopped back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling, chatting on with hardly a pause to breathe.

“Even ketchup is secondary to sirt. Everybody uses sirt. The biggest condiment since, since ketchup and none of you have even tasted it, it’s ridiculous.”

“I know, Mr. Gold,” the man replies gently, not looking up. “You’ve already told me.”

“It's such a tragedy. You have to live your life never knowing the taste, there's a condiment shaped hole in all of you and you don't even know. It’d be like, like, never having tasted, um...”

“Booster,” Bea grins. “We’re here.”

Booster lifts his head from the pillow, the slight wobble implying what Dr. Breck told them to be true. "-- Strawberries." When his eyes focus on Bea his whole demeanor changes, a childlike joy coming over his face as he grins. “Bea! _Hiiiiii_ ,” he giggles. His eyes move to Ted, and he grins wider and sighs like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “Teddy, sweetheart, I’ve missed you!”

Unsure what part of this he should address, Ted glances to the nurse and tries to sound calm. “Only hero names, Booster." They approach the bed, Ted's hands already feeling clammy within his gloves. Now he knows he can't hug him, can't touch him. It'd be too obvious.

The nurse looks up, about to say something, but Booster continues: "I never had, you know.”

“Never had what?” Ted asks, finding a chair by the window and moving it to the bedside. Bea does the same.

“Tasted strawberries,” Booster stares at the ceiling and smiles gently to himself. “I knew strawberry _flavor_ but I think they... they got gone, the actual strawberries, between your time and my mine.” His head lolls sideways, looking at them with soft eyes, and he sighs contentedly. “They’re _so_ good, Ted.”

He can hear Bea giggle next to him. “I know they are, Booster. You still shouldn’t call me by --”

“Don’t worry,” the nurse finally interjects and nods to them. “The team in this department has been heavily vetted, you can be certain no information will travel beyond this room.”

“Well, that’s good,” Ted sighs, though still uncomfortable with the notion of a filter-less Booster. “But please, buddy. Try not using our real names.”

“Okay,” Booster grins at him. “You got it... _Blue_. Bluey. Bluey Louie.” He closes his eyes and giggles softly.

Bea laughs. “Boy, you’re really flying high right now, Booster."

Booster’s delighted grin turns into a frown. “Aw, but then -- _you_ shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what?”

“You can’t call me Booster.”

Bea bursts into laughter at Ted’s groan. “Booster _is_ your hero name, you idiot,” Ted tells him, something like real frustration in his voice. He's surprised at himself. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

_It’s just the adrenaline. Booster’s okay and his pain killer’s working, that’s all that matters._

“It’s okay, Buggy.” Booster yawns, closing his eyes.

There’s a pause in which Ted wonders if Booster’s really gonna fall asleep. Maybe they should let him. Let him rest and get through the high that way. Booster grunts and murmurs something indecipherable when the nurse removes the cuff from his arm. 

“Your pressure is right where we want to see it,” the nurse quietly tells him.

“Mm, that’s terrific,” Booster mutters, eyes still closed. “ _Phenomenal._ ” He yawns again, then startles, eyes wide, looking at Ted and Bea. “Oh! You haven’t met my new friend. Ah.” He squirms for a moment and it’s not clear to Ted why, until Booster looks down at his arm splint. “Why can’t I move my arm?”

“I’ll tell you again, Mr. Gold,” the nurse patiently begins. “You hurt your elbow, it’s been immobilized so it can heal.”

“Oh, that’s right. Okay,” Booster murmurs, head falling against the pillow, something like relief on his face. “You haven’t met my friend,” he reiterates and nods towards the nurse with a smile. “This is, um.” He squints at the tall, tan nurse, brows knotted in concentration. "Um."

“Can’t wait,” the nurse smirks.

“Mm-- _Matthew,_ ” Booster ventures, hesitantly.

“Close,” the nurse chuckles. “It’s Vincent.”

“This is Vincent,” Booster tells them, closing his eyes and letting his head fall to the pillow again. “He’s super duper handsome. I mean, look at him.”

Ted feels a tightness between his shoulder blades. He glances at the nurse (who is, admittedly, pretty handsome in a... _mainstream_ kind of way), trying to gauge his reaction to Booster's comment, but Vincent merely readjusts Booster’s sling with precise fingers, a pleasant but neutral expression on his face.

“He looks like a movie star,” Booster mutters with a groggy smile, eyes still closed. “I could look at him all day.”

“Me too.” Bea winks at Vincent, her most winning smile on display.

Ted shifts in his seat, a jittery electric charge in his chest. He wasn’t prepared for this. He’d worried Booster would let slip their little arrangement, their feelings, their secret, when he was like this. But he’s here and Booster doesn’t even seem to acknowledge him beyond having someone to chat with. It's like he’s been upstaged by a guy who’ll probably punch out and forget about Booster’s existence in a few hours. Like... Like Ted has been alright for a little while but the moment someone better, handsomer comes along, no matter how unattainable, it’s goodbye Ted.

_Stop it._

_Stop it stop it stop it. You’re not getting jealous over some drugged-up rambling._

“I’m, uh, really sorry about my friend,” Ted tells Vincent, who’s tidying up the nightstand next to the bed.

“It’s fine,” he smiles, not looking up from his work. “We see all sorts of reactions. Mr. Gold, at least, seems to be pretty happy about... well, everything." He looks up, and nods to them. "Excuse me, I’ll go talk with Dr. Breck, see when Mr. Gold’s ready to go home.”

“Sure,” Ted mutters, studying Booster, who may or may not be asleep at the moment. His breathing is slow and quiet, his golden eyelashes fluttering a little even as his eyes are closed.

Is this a truer Booster? Is this him, unfiltered? Just happy and extroverted and so upfront about who he’s attracted to?

_Is this a Booster who’s beyond pretending he doesn’t know he can do so much better than me?_

Booster frowns suddenly and shifts in bed, a soft groan escaping him. He opens his eyes, scanning their faces.

“You doing okay, bud?” Ted asks when Booster’s restless gaze finally meets his.

Booster looks at him for a moment, worried, then something seems to switch, shift into place, and he sighs, a tired smile on his face. “I missed you _so_ bad,” he murmurs, and Ted can't help feeling a warm glow in his chest spreading, little by little. Maybe Booster's happy to see him, after all. The way Ted is happy to see _him_.

He looks into Booster's blue eyes, noticing how narrow Booster's pupils are right now. Like pinpricks. Poor guy. “I missed you too, buddy.”

“Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

Booster frowns, looking down at himself, at the sling. “I really don’t want you to be mad.”

“I’m _not mad_ , Booster,” Ted smiles gently at him. “Why should I be mad?”

“Because I’m stupid,” Booster sighs, his head hitting the pillow. “I’m stupid and I get hurt.”

“Booster, you did great today.” Bea leans forward in her seat and places a gentle hand on Booster’s healthy arm. Ted looks at her hand, that point of contact, skin to skin, and wishes he could touch Booster too. “You saved a lot of people.”

“I’m _stupid_ ,” Booster repeats, looking at the ceiling. “I got hurt because I’m so much stupider without _you_ , Ted.”

Instinctively Ted looks up, scanning the room to make sure nobody’s there to hear his real name, but Vincen't gone and it’s just a habit, just something he does without thinking. Inside there’s a strange, vibrating sensation.

“Don’t worry, Booster,” Bea tells him with a smile. “We all know when you and Beetle’s two brain cells combine there’s no stopping you.”

Ted forces a smile, a chuckle, but he can’t ignore how sad and vulnerable Booster looks, staring into space.

“No, no,” Booster mutters, restless. “Not like that at all. It's not -- I mean...” He shifts, a little groan escaping him. “Hey, why can’t I move my arm?”

“You hurt your arm and it’s strapped in so it’ll heal,” Bea tells him, studying his face. “What do you mean, not like that?”

“Fire,” Ted whispers. “Don’t make him go on if it upsets him.”

“I mean, like --” A sigh, almost a sob, escapes Booster. “I get stupid because I, I miss you too much, and I like you too much.” Booster turns and looks at Ted, Booster's blue eyes so sad, almost despairing. “I like you too much, I’m sorry.”

Ted swallows thickly, his throat seems to tighten, his windpipe narrowing. “Booster,” he says sternly.

“Like, I -- your room is empty and, and my bed is empty and my pillow smells like you and I can’t --”

“Booster!”

Ted realizes too late he’s already on his feet, his face burning with the panic, the shame that's been boiling in his belly. He glances at Bea, who’s already staring wide-eyed at him. He tries calming his breathing, looking back at Booster, whose sadness seems even more palpable by the second, like cold open grief.

“I’m sorry,” Booster mutters, his voice thin. “Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not --” Ted takes a deep breath, easing himself down on the chair. “I’m not mad at you, Booster.” His heart is going a hundred miles a minute, but it's not Booster's fault. Not really. He can't help it. “You’ve just had a weird reaction to a drug. It’s messed up your head a bit, you don’t make any sense. It’s alright.”

Booster leans back on the pillow again, frowning, blinking against the light. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Ted mutters, exhaustion creeping up his legs, his arms.

“Okay. Um. That’s okay then,” Booster mutters, and sighs while he regards the ceiling. “I’m so tired. I wanna sleep until it’s the future again.”

 _I can relate_ , Ted thinks. He doesn’t move his eyes from Booster’s face, because if he should turn he’d have to acknowledge the way Bea is staring at him, and not at Booster. He can tell, out of the corner of his eye, though he can’t read her expression.

Just drugged-up rambling, Booster high and emotional and getting mixed up. That’s what it must look like, right? Even if -- even if Booster should go for a detailed account of their nights these last few weeks, nobody sane would believe it. Nobody would suspect --

“Excuse me,” comes a gentle voice from behind them. Only once Ted can tell Bea has turned to look does he turn around as well. It's Vincent. The handsome movie star nurse. “If you’ll step outside the doctor will speak with you.”

Ted gets to his feet and glances back at Booster who's fighting to keep his eyes open, staring at the wall. Almost about to nod off again. He imagines Booster only hours ago, lying in a heap of rubble and broken glass, crying out in pain, trying to get up and not being able to.

It shouldn't be like this.

If Ted had been there Booster wouldn’t have gotten hurt, there would have been a plan, he’d have stopped Grundy from hurting Booster even if he’d had to step forward, get hurt _for_ him. Or if Booster’s speaking the truth (a muddled, drugged up kind of truth), if Ted hadn’t left for Hong Kong, Booster wouldn’t have been distracted, maybe that would --

Too many thoughts in his head, too much adrenaline in his system. He heads out into the hall where Dr. Marlowe goes through a short-term plan for Booster; pain management, check-ups. They agree the best thing right now is for Booster to rest and hopefully sleep off his high, and he’ll probably do that more soundly back in his own bed _(his pillow smelling of Ted)_.

Of course, it’s an arduous process, checking out a superhero who’s not lucid enough to do it himself. Forms that have to be filled out, further identity corroboration for both Ted and Beatriz, an okay over videophone from Max, who is, for some reason, listed as Booster’s next of kin.

Finally they’re handed a paper bag of Booster’s belongings -- his torn suit, his flight ring, his wrist blasters, his faulty force field belt. It feels morbid, somehow. The same package they’d receive if Booster’s act of heroism had gone catastrophically wrong.

Something to remember him by.

Ted shudders. He clings to that paper bag, those things Booster would never give up willingly, the most important items in Booster’s life.

“You understand the suit had to be cut to be removed,” the lady at the counter tells them as Ted signs for Booster’s belongings.

“It’s okay.” He gives her a tired smile. “I’ll patch it up.” He’s mended small tears and holes in Booster’s suit before, he can stitch the whole thing up again, make it look like nothing ever happened.

The only long-term damage is to Booster’s body, not his things.

“Beetle,” Bea whispers. "Can we talk about --"

“Well, that only leaves the main guy,” Ted announces to no one in particular, not meeting her gaze. They return to Booster’s room without another word, and find him fast asleep, his mouth open in a gentle snore.

Ted hesitates, looking at his sling, the fingers of his damaged arm peaking out, twitching slightly in his sleep. What if the pain comes when he wakes up? What if he keeps talking, spilling their secrets?

Finally it’s Bea who places a gentle hand on his chest. “Booster. Booster, time to wake up. Time to leave.”

He returns to them gradually, blinking, scrunching his nose in a stifled yawn. “Oh, hi.” He smiles groggily at Bea, then grins wider when he spots Ted behind her. _“Ted_. Baby.”

“No real names, remember?” he smiles, already panicking deep inside.

“Oh yeah.” Booster chuckles softly.

 _At least he’s not in pain_ , Ted reminds himself. _At least he’s happy and comfortable_.

_I can kill him once he's feeling better._

“It’s time we head home,” Bea tells Booster again and helps him to the edge of the bed. He wobbles slightly and makes a surprised little noise when he can’t seem to find his balance unsupported.

“My arm,” he mutters, confused, and looks down at the sling.

“You hurt it,” Ted reminds him quietly. “It’s immobilized so it’ll heal.”

“Huh.”

Bea helps him to his feet and he wobbles for a moment, then looks back up at Ted, frowning. “You... You’ve told me before, haven’t you?”

“Sure have, buddy,” Ted sighs, forcing a smile.

“I’m sorry, Te-- um. Bugster. Junebug.”

 _“Junebug,”_ Bea repeats under her breath and giggles.

Ted shoots Bea a look. “It’s okay, Booster.”

“I don’t know why I’m, um,” Booster raises his hand, his good hand, and pulls his fingers through his hair. “I think my brain’s being weird.”

“That’s the drugs,” Ted tells him. “It’ll wear off. Hopefully,” he adds.

“I’ve been doing _drugs?_ ”

“No, no -- Booster,” Bea reaches out her hand to steady him. “It’s a hospital, _they’ve_ given you drugs. For the pain.”

“Oh,” he sighs. “That makes _way_ more sense.”

Even Ted has to laugh. It's too loud, as usual, and when he reminds himself they're in a hospital and tries to quiet down it becomes a snort so loud it hurts his nose.

"If everyone's finished," Bea groans. "Can we go home now?"

Booster stumbles as he tries to move towards the door, and both Ted and Bea reach out to steady him, and finally move to each side to help him. Ted wraps Booster’s good arm around his neck, feeling the warmth of him through the suit. Maybe they should have switched places, maybe this is too intimate. Too close, too dangerous.

“You okay, Booster?” Bea asks him.

“Sure, sure, sure,” Booster smiles. “But Be-- Flamey. Flame girl. You, you shouldn’t... You can’t call me Booster.”

Ted groans softly. “No _real_ names."

“It _is_ my real name!” Booster objects.

“Okay, genius, what should we call you?” Ted asks as the three of them slowly make their way out the door, down the hall. Booster’s _heavy_. “Flying Blaster Boy? Goldenlegs?”

“No. No, you're supposed to call me...”

Ted can practically hear the gears turn in Booster’s muddled head. Surely he has to come to the realization that he goes by Booster, in costume or out.

“Call me Michael.”

Ted chuckles. “Why _Michael?”_

Booster stares into the middle distance. “Because it’s -- it’s me.”

“Wait.” Ted feels a very strange sensation travel up his spine, and it’s not just because every vertebra is being compressed by Booster’s weight. “You’re telling me you’re actually named Michael?”

“Shh! God,” Bea hisses, staring at the door at the end of the hall. “You’re as bad as him.”

“Wait, _you_ knew?” Ted stares at her.

Bea shrugs, unencumbered enough to do so without Booster’s arm weighing her down. She sure picked the easier side to support Booster. “I heard Max refer to him that way, long ago.”

“Oh.” Ted swallows. So Max knows, Bea knows, everybody apparently knows, except Ted. How could he not _know?_

Why would Booster not tell him, when he seems to have told others? They’ve been best friends for -- for years. They’ve been sharing a bed for weeks, why wouldn’t Booster want him to know?

Ted told him his real name one of the first times they met -- hell, he told him his _full_ embarrassing name ages ago. Why is it that Booster would not want to share the same thing with _him?_

They make their slow way to the underground garage, the secret exit the hospital offers their more high-profile patients. It takes a bit of work, getting Booster in the back seat of the car. He bumps his head getting in, a surprised little huff escaping him that makes Ted grateful that the painkiller’s still working. Now all they need is to not make him any more banged up than he already is, and they’re home safe.

“You know, I could kill for a hot dog with sirt right now,” Booster murmurs as Ted and Bea sit down in front.

“Sirt doesn't exist yet, Booster,” Bea sighs. "Apparently."

“Michael,” Booster reminds her.

“Sorry.” Bea giggles. “Michael.”

_Michael._

“Fine,” Booster yawns, trying to stretch his arms but only having one free and able to move. “Jesus, I'm so tired.”

“You just rest, buddy.” Ted regards him in the rear view mirror. “We’ll be there in a bit.”

“Marvelous,” Booster murmurs, his eyelids already dropping. “Great. Good Junebug.”

There’s a soft giggle from Bea as Ted starts the car and begins the process of finding the exit to the garage. By the time they see daylight he glances back at Booster again and sees him splayed out over the back seat, sleeping.

_Oh boy._

_What a day._

The silence in the car is palpable. Ted would turn on the radio except he doesn’t want to wake Booster. _Michael._

He’s feeling pretty exhausted himself. From the rushing from Hong Kong to New York (sped up, of course, by help of the JLI transporter pods) to the hospital, the anxiety at not knowing, and then Booster head being all screwed up. Flirting with guys, being weird about names.

It’s too much information, too much input for only a few hours.

He’d suspected it, of course. That Booster had a real name, a private name. And that was perfectly fine, obviously, even that he hadn’t told Ted. There had to be a reason, and Ted hadn't pondered it too hard. Just a mystery. Lots of things were a mystery, when it came to Booster. Ted was fine with it.

Fine with it until he learned _other people_ were allowed to know. All along, they knew.

Blue and Gold. The things they shared, the secrets they've kept together. Why was _a name_ , Booster's actual identity, the thing Ted wasn’t privy to?

He realizes he’s tapping a nervous beat on the steering wheel, and stops himself, focusing on the road.

“So, Beetle,” Bea says, staring calmly ahead. “Something you wanna share?”

“What?” comes the choked reply from Ted. He can hear his own pulse beating in his ears. A rhythmic rushing noise, getting faster.

“I just thought Booster raised some interesting points.”

“Oh?” Ted tries to calm his breathing, but instead he notices he’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel again. He can’t seem to stop doing that. “Would that be about the condiment that hasn’t been invented yet, or the fact that you should change your name to Flamey?”

Bea chuckles. “No, not that. I mean you got pretty fired up at something he said back then.”

“I can’t remember.”

“Something about... A bed? A pillow?”

“You heard him, he’s not made any sense all evening.” Still his fingers are drumming a restless beat on the steering wheel. _Tap tap tap._ “He’s completely out of it.”

“Hm, maybe so,” Bea muses and stretches in her seat. “Just thought you had a funny reaction to it, that’s all.”

“I’m just tired, too much adrenaline.” _Tap tap tap tap._

“You seemed so upset.”

“I think I, uh.” _Tap tap._ “I was just uncomfortable with the implication, I guess.”

“Come on,” Bea laughs. “Like those jokes haven’t been around since you two found each other. _You_ even used to joke about that.” She looks at him. “But it’s funny. You haven’t in a while now.”

“Bea.” Ted’s voice comes out all strangled. “Stop it.”

“I’m not trying to be mean, Beetle.” She glances back at Booster, snoring in the back seat. “I love you guys, you know that. I just got the funniest feeling today you're tearing yourself apart over something you don't want people to know.”

Ted finally stops his fingers from tapping by gripping the steering wheel as firmly as he can. _Don’t crash. This would be a really stupid way to get killed._

“And if there _is_ a secret,” Her voice is soft, kind. “Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have a friend to help keep it.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a secret if I shared it,” Ted mutters, wondering if he’s giving away too much. But by the sound of Bea, it seems like she already knows. Knows a whole lot.

“Of course, I could always wake Booster up, ask him for details,” she grins. “I’m sure he’d share all sorts of things right now.”

“You wouldn’t,” Ted squeaks before he can stop himself. Okay, now he’s definitely given himself away.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t,” she grins and pats his shoulder. “And I’d never ever tell a living soul. Not even Tora. Look at me, Ted.”

“I can’t,” he mutters, gripping the steering wheel. “I’m driving.”

“Okay, _don’t_ look,” she says. “All I mean is, I have a pretty risqué private life myself, I’ve done and seen a lot some people would probably dislike, even if it’s none of their business, even if it never hurt anyone. I'm pretty damn open-minded, Ted. And I’m good at hiding things, covering for people.”

Ted frowns, glancing in the mirror at Booster, dead asleep.

“And I think,” she murmurs, softly. “You could use someone to confide in once in a while.”

Ted swallows, pulse still thundering in his ears. Why does she make sense? Why doesn’t it feel like a terrible idea?

“Bea... God. Okay,” he mutters. “If you promise you’ll never ever tell _anyone_.”

“On my mother’s life,” she smiles, bouncing in her seat. “So you and Booster, huh?”

Ted feels a heat rising up his chest, his neck. “Are we that obvious?”

“No, not to anyone who hasn’t had some agreeable secret relationships herself,” she grins, pulling her fingers through her long hair. “Though now that I think about it, you’ve been circling each other like cats in heat lately. How long has your little love story been going on, then? Since the beginning? The infamous _jerk-off session_ statement, was that the first clue?”

“No, it’s -- it’s pretty recent,” Ted mutters, still burning bright red. “And I wouldn’t call it a love story.” He glances at Booster. “It’s just -- just a thing. Something we’re, um, trying out.”

“Well, good on you, Beetle,” she grins, turning in her seat to admire their sleeping friend. “Having Booster to try it with.”

There’ll be scorch marks in the driver’s seat at the rate Ted’s temperature is rising. But there’s also a little happy stir in his chest, because he _is_ lucky. He’s happy someone else can see it too. He feels almost like bragging, reveling in how beautiful and wonderful Booster is. Even if he is an idiot. Even if he’s absolutely exhausting when he’s sky high on painkillers.

“Aw, look at you,” Bea grins. “You’re head over heels for him, huh?”

Ted coughs, gripping the steering wheel harder. “No, I --” He suddenly feels a little jolt of unease again. “Like I said, I -- it’s nothing serious. It’s not like that.” He takes a deep breath to ground himself. “I mean, it doesn’t mean -- I’m not gay.”

“Sure.”

“I’m really not.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Bea sighs. “It just seems like that’s a big issue for you.” She leans her arm against the car window. “Does it bother you that much?”

“You’re hardly a psychoanalyst, Fire,” Ted tells her, not taking his eyes off the road. “Let’s just leave it at that, okay? You know about us, that's more than enough.” A knot is forming in his stomach. Too many things to worry about today. Did he just create one more?

“Well, I’m happy for you, anyway. Honestly,” she smiles. “I’ll gladly be your alibi or cover when you need it.”

“Thank you,” Ted murmurs. “Appreciate it.”

The rest of the drive back to the Embassy is silent, save for Booster’s snoring.

* * *

“Gosh, Booster! Are you okay?” Tora lifts her hand to her mouth and looks on, wide-eyed.

“Peachy keen,” Booster murmurs with a groggy smile.

“He’ll be fine,” Ted tells her, straining under the weight of Booster, trying to coax him up the stairs to his room. “He’s got a dislocated elbow and a ton of bruises, nothing permanent.”

“And he’s high as a kite on pain killers,” Bea smiles, happy to have unburdened herself on Captain Atom who's supporting Booster’s other side.

“Also that,” Ted concedes. “Just a few more steps, buddy.”

“Okay, Junebug,” Booster smiles.

“Junebug?” Nat asks, grunting a little with effort as Booster stumbles against him.

“Don’t mind him,” Ted mutters, grateful the physical strain can explain away the flush in his cheeks. “He’s very into renaming people right now.” _Even himself._ “There we are, bud. Made it up the stairs.”

“Mm,” Booster murmurs happily.

“We just gotta -- _ah!”_ Ted jumps at the sensation of Booster’s warm lips pressing against his neck, he almost drops him from the shock. He manages to hold on, not wanting Booster to crash to the floor, but he feels like his heart is about to explode out of his chest.

_Not in front of the League. Not in front of everyone. Dammit Booster, how am I supposed to explain this?_

“Yeah, those drugs makes him very... affectionate,” Bea giggles. “Gave me a great big smooch earlier. The nurse, too. I’d keep him at arms length, Cap, if you don’t want to get some sugar as well.”

“Erm, Beetle,” Nat mutters, taking a step back. “Think you can handle the rest of the way?” Funny, he didn’t think a metallic man could blush.

“Yeah, thanks,” Ted groans sarcastically, a deep appreciation for Bea warming his chest. Crisis averted. Now he just needs to get Booster to bed and then join the others, maybe endure some light teasing but he’ll just act appropriately embarrassed and that will be that.

It’s not so bad, having an ally in Bea.

Booster’s room is dark, his bed unmade. Ted manages to shut the door behind them with his heel, and power through the last few steps towards the bed. Almost there, almost done. It takes the last bits of strength in him to ease Booster down to the edge of the bed.

“Okay, there." Ted wipes his palm across his brow. "You’re home, you can rest now, just -- sleep it off.” He hunches down to remove Booster’s shoes.

“Mm, no,” Booster smiles mischievously. “I don’t feel tired.”

“Dude, you’re tired, trust me. You keep falling asleep,” Ted mutters, rising to his feet only to feel a strong arm wrap around him, making him stumble against Booster.

“Maybe you could make me tired,” Booster murmurs and hungrily kisses his neck. “Just fuck me until I --”

“No, no, no,” Ted pushes himself up again, fearing he’s bruised Booster up more by falling so heavily against him. “Absolutely not.”

 _“Please,”_ Booster whines and tugs on his shirt. “Baby, I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

“We have a deal, right?” Ted smiles, a little flushed. A little too hot. “We’re not doing this drunk, so were definitely not doing it drugged, either.”

Booster groans loudly and flops down on his back in bed, his feet still on the floor. “You’re so _mean_.”

“A real monster,” Ted smirks. Though secretly he wouldn’t mind joining Booster in bed. Not to do anything R-rated, just... Hold him. Decompress. Appreciate that he’s there and alive and alright. But he should join the others, make an appearance. Defuse whatever thoughts people might have gotten at the sight of Booster kissing him, even if Bea stepped in.

But still something bothers him.

“Hey, Booster?” he mutters.

“Yeah?” Booster yawns, which gives Ted hope he can leave in a little while. 

“What’s your real name?”

“What?” Booster frowns at the ceiling. “Its Booster Gold. I was so sure you knew that.”

“No, your...” Ted hesitates. “Your _real_ name.”

“It’s, um,” Booster clears his throat, still frowning at the ceiling. “It’s nothing. It’s not me anymore.”

“Michael.”

“No,” Booster sits up, a process that takes a little while with his right arm strapped to his torso. “Don’t call me that. I don’t want you to call me that.”

Something stings in Ted’s chest, pricking at his heart. “Why not?” he asks, his voice thin.

“Because... Because, I don't --” Booster’s voice shakes, and Ted wonders if he’s cruel to bring this up now, when Booster’s got no filter, no breaks on. “Because Michael Carter just fucks everything up." He clears his throat. "That’s why I left him in 2362, if he was here he’d fuck this up too.”

Fuck what up? The League? The two of them?

Ted hesitates. Should he go on? Is he horrible that he wants to go on? “But you let Max call you Michael.” How many others? Why not him?

“No, that... that was before. I came here and I, I let people call me Michael and then...” Booster takes a shuddering breath. “She came here and she’s always called me Michael, of course she has, and --”

“Who came?”

“Michelle.”

“Your sister?” Ted’s only heard Booster mention her in passing, that he's a twin. That his sister passed away, not too long ago, though in what era he doesn't know. A wound so recent, so unfathomable, Ted hasn’t dared to ask further.

“Yeah, and I, I -- I got her killed. Because that’s what happens when I’m Michael, I screw everything up." His voice breaks, comes undone. "I ruin everything.” Booster sobs outright, and Ted can’t stop himself from sitting down next to Booster, wrapping his arms around him, holding him tighter when Booster rests his head against him, sobbing against his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Booster,” he coos.

“No I, I--” Booster’s gasps, pressing closer against Ted, tears wetting the costume. “I just know that if Michelle’s not here, Michael’s got no fucking business being around either.”

What can he possibly say to make this easier? Why the hell did he bring this up at all? He knew about his sister, knew that they practically had the same name, how could he not have figured this out?

At a loss for words, Ted gently caresses Booster’s back, slowly. Again and again.

“That’s all I want, for, for the world to work like that,” Booster mutters, crying openly. “Just be Booster Gold, just -- just be a hero all the time who makes everyone happy, who fixes things.”

“You are,” Ted tells him quietly. “You’re a great hero, you do amazing things.”

“No, I’m --” Booster gasps for breath, trying to stop from crying, his shoulders trembling. Curling up around his damaged arm. “I’m just kidding myself. I stole some tights and went where no one knew about me and I fooled all of you, I made you think that I, I was someone. I’m a fucking fraud and a crook and I keep, keep waiting for everyone to find me out.”

Ted shifts, letting Booster lie down on his side, his head in Ted’s lap. Booster lets him, and sobs deeper when Ted strokes his hair. “You’re not a fraud,” Ted tells him softly. “I watch you do good things every day. You’re making a difference. And you’re good at it.”

“I’m just pretending, just -- following everyone’s lead, trying not to screw up.” He takes a ragged breath, seeming to calm down a little. “But I _always_ screw up in the end. Like today. And that, that proves it. That I’m stupid and fake and... _bad_.”

“Look, Booster,” Ted murmurs, brushing his fingers through Booster’s hair. It’s so soft, so... smooth. Nothing to catch his fingers on. “The drugs they gave you are -- they’re making you feel everything a little more keenly right now. They’ll wear off and you’ll feel a lot better.”

“No, I wont,” Booster murmurs, closing his eyes. He takes a deep breath, calming himself. “It’s always there, it doesn’t stop. Because deep down I’m always Michael Jon Carter and I can’t... I can’t lock the bad things in me away.”

Ted’s fingers tremble slightly as he strokes Booster’s hair. “You’re a wonderful guy, Booster.” Ted looks down at him, feeling a little raw himself. “I wouldn’t bother with you if you were those things you say you are.”

Booster sniffs. “I fooled you too, then.”

Ted takes a deep breath, slowly stroking Booster's hair. “As if,” Ted huffs. “I’m a genius, remember?”

Booster snorts, but in the darkness Ted can still see the sides of his mouth pull back in a self-conscious little smile. Ted brushes a lock of hair out of Booster’s eyes, allowing himself to trail his fingertips down the side of his face, his temple, his cheek. Booster sighs softly, his frown softening, his breathing slowing, growing calmer.

Ted should join the others but he won’t.

Not yet.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a vague idea that this chapter would fit into canon after Booster encounters Doomsday, but that's years into the future from this point and I felt like writing this now. It's nice I get to make the rules.
> 
> Also this is completely irrelevant, but my reasoning behind Booster reacting A LOT to buprenorphine is that by the time he's born there's been some biological juking (with occasional success) to combat certain societal ills, and to address the runaway opioid crisis they made people super sensitive to opioids so a little goes a very long way. It doesn't necessarily make sense but I want to imagine a very fired-up politician at some point pushed it through once the technology was there.
> 
>  **[Song:](https://open.spotify.com/user/tilly_stratford/playlist/4SqomvmhyncWPEAobYUZ88?si=DNXWufsLSs29KqRywW2U9A)**  
>  Give Me the Keys (And I'll Drive You Crazy) - Huey Lewis & The News


End file.
